I Don't Dislike You
by Account is now Inactive
Summary: Who ever said dresses weren't for men? Certainly not Hungary. Germany on the other hand, well... maybe Italy might change his mind. Oneshot. GermanyxItaly.


**A/N: This fic is dedicated, once again, to my friend Katie as it is her (very) belated birthday present. She's the only one I know who'd wait three months to finish a lousy piece of writing. And put up with me fangirling incessantly over USxUK (my OTP!) when I'm supposed to be writing her a GerIta fic. XD Anyways, this fic was actually inspired by a GermanyxItaly fanart I have on my Photobucket. You can use this web address in the bottom author's note (minus the spaces) to see the picture. Or, if you're feeling too lazy to figure out where all the spaces are, there's a link on my profile as well. And with that, I'll let you get on with reading! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

"Oh Ita-chan, you're going to look so cute!"

Elizaveta's delighted squeal was pretty much the antithesis of her rather vicious movements. Of course, one had to be rather forceful when they were attempting to get a man into a dress. Especially a dress that was a little smaller than it should be.

With a particularly sharp tug on the blue fabric, Feliciano's head finally emerged from the neck and he took several gasping breaths. The Italian would've complained about nearly being suffocated and having been denied pasta several times over already, but _all_ the nations knew that when Elizaveta got her hands on them, it was best just to go along with whatever idea she had formed in her head. Feliciano made a mental note- that he'd probably forget- to keep an eye out for her whenever he decided to visit Roderich's house from now on. Because if every visit would at some point involve the woman dragging him off to her room and doing things like this, they might end up being a lot less frequent. The reasoning behind this, of course, would be that every nation also knew it was pretty much impossible to try and stop the Hungarian from doing something, even if they actually attempted to. But while Feliciano wasn't dim enough to actually try and _prevent_ Elizaveta from doing things like this, he was certainly curious enough to wonder _why_ she was doing it. So he asked.

"Ve~ Hungary, why are we doing this?"

Feliciano winced after speaking due to another vicious tug, this time on his arm, as Elizaveta yanked it through the armhole.

"Because," she said lightly as she worked on pulling his other arm through, "this is all part of my plan."

Feliciano couldn't help but gulp nervously at the rather ominous note of eagerness that Elizaveta had let slip into what she was saying.

"P-plan?" he asked with more than a hint of wariness.

"You'll see in time, Ita-chan, you'll see in time!" The devilish grin on her face did nothing to ease Feliciano's nervousness.

Elizaveta finally succeeded in pulling his other arm through the second sleeve of the dress and the grin only grew wider- if that was indeed possible. Feliciano grimaced slightly at how snugly the dress fit around his torso, but was relieved to find that it was infinitely more bearable than he thought it would be. In fact, if the fabric stretched a little while he was wearing it, it might even wind up being, well… _comfortable_. After all, it wasn't as though this would be his first time wearing a dress.

Elizaveta snapped in front of his face impatiently to get his attention, effectively breaking him from his reminiscent thoughts.

"Get up so I can straighten the dress out now, okay?"

Feliciano gave a small nod, his curl bobbing along with the movement and stood up off of the bed, only just now remembering that Elizaveta had already gotten tights on him. White tights. And goodness had that been a fiasco; they hadn't really been made with the male body in mind. Not only that, but he'd have to be careful eating pasta today, he realised with a small pout. The thought of pasta made his stomach rumble lightly, reminding him how hungry he was. The pout ever so slightly intensified. It was short lived though as Elizaveta's hand smoothed the fabric of the dress against his stomach, tickling him and making him giggle. She grinned in response- to his cuteness, of course- before pushing his back down onto the bed. The suddenness of it almost made the Italian fall flat on his back.

"Wha-what was that for?" he asked, somewhat flustered.

Elizaveta clucked her tongue as though it should be obvious. "We have to put the finishing touches on it, Ita-chan!"

And with a flourish, she brought out a pair of black Mary Janes and a white kerchief. Feliciano vaguely wondered where she'd been hiding them this whole time, seeing as she'd barely moved a foot away from him since she dragged him into her room and began the assault on his masculinity. Or what there was of it.

Nevertheless, Feliciano was compliant as Elizaveta buckled the shoes onto his feet and situated the kerchief- now folded in half diagonally- atop his head and knotted the ends at the nape of his neck. After patting his shoulders affectionately, she stepped back, simultaneously grabbing his hand and pulling to get him to stand up once more so as to further survey her work. And as Feliciano was practically starving by now, he did so without a fuss, wanting nothing more than to leave and go get some pasta.

And then she pulled out the camera.

His stomach whined for him.

* * *

Feliciano nearly fell as he stumble-ran to Ludwig's house, his shoes clacking noisily against the pavement of the sidewalk. A gust of wind hit him and he held the skirt of the dress down, now much more self-conscious thanks to it. Of course, it didn't really help that the dress just barely went past his mid-thigh. But at least he was dressed on this visit; Ludwig would be a little less angry at that. At least, that's how Feliciano hoped it would be. If not, then he could just explain how Elizaveta wouldn't give him his regular clothes back and how she'd almost bashed his head in with her frying pan when he tried to get them himself. After all, even Ludwig knew it was best just to do what she said when she was wielding that particular weapon- his time living with Roderich had taught him that lesson well.

Upon reaching Ludwig's house, Feliciano pulled out his much used key- that the German had very reluctantly given him about a month ago- and let himself in. He wasted no time from there, heading straight for the kitchen to find the leftover pasta from his visit yesterday, his stomach growling all the while. He giggled when he opened the fridge, immediately spotting the container holding his delectable food thanks to the label placed on it, displaying his name in what was obviously Ludwig's handwriting. The Italian couldn't help but find it cute, smiling to himself as he grabbed the food and all while he heated it up. It was a lot harder to smile while eating it though. Of course, being Feliciano, he managed to do it with a bit of concentration. Or maybe a lot of concentration, seeing as he also had to focus on keeping his tights in pristine condition. In fact, he was so absorbed in eating, smiling, and staying clean that he didn't even notice Ludwig enter the kitchen.

Which meant that he didn't notice the shocked look on the German's face.

Or the blush that briefly coloured his pale cheeks.

"I-Italy! What are you wearing?!" the blond suddenly yelled, effectively startling Feliciano into falling off of his chair and landing on the ground with a thud.

"Uwah!"

Of course Ludwig, not one so prone to being caught off guard for long- countless hours of training could testify to that- sighed and got about doing what he'd seemed to develop quite a knack for. Saving Feliciano.

* * *

It was easy to get bored while Ludwig was working, but it seemed to be unusually easy for the exuberant Italian now walking absentmindedly around the house. At least he was lucky enough to have been able to spend time with the German during the short lunch break he allowed himself whenever working at home. All he does is work anyways, Feliciano thought with a small pout. But he knew it wouldn't do to interrupt Ludwig. That would only make him angry, and Feliciano hated when Ludwig was displeased with him. So what could he possibly do to stave off the boredom?

With this question in mind, Feliciano continued moving idly around the house. A few minutes later, a brilliant idea hit him full force. Ludwig was a meat man, obsessed with keeping things tidy and organized. So, wouldn't he be overjoyed if Feliciano cleaned the house-- even if it was practically immaculate already?

Feliciano grinned happily to himself as he set out to find cleaning supplies. That was when he tripped.

Of course, it really wasn't his fault. He was still wearing the Mary Janes after all. In fact, he was still wearing the whole getup Elizaveta had forced him into; even despite Ludwig's attempt to make things a little less uncomfortable for himself and loan Feliciano his own clothes. Unfortunately for him, his clothing was way too large for the small Italian. The German ultimately decided that it would be better for Feliciano to just keep the dress on as opposed to winding up naked due to the clothes falling off of him. So really, it was all Ludwig's fault. Not that Feliciano could ever be even remotely mad at him.

Even so, with a rather loud thump the Italian landed hard on the floor of the house's spacious living room.

"Ve," he mumbled woozily as he slowly picked himself up off of the floor. He winced as he stumbled to the nearest thing he could safely lean against- which happened to be a wall- and rested his back against it. Bending forward slightly, the brunet was about to inspect himself for any injury when he suddenly heard Ludwig come rushing down the stairs.

"Italy!" the blond yelled as he burst through the door way, frantically scanning the room for the Italian. His urgency caught Feliciano off guard, so much so that he found he couldn't respond to Ludwig. Luckily for him, a response wasn't needed as the German spotted him and briskly walked over to where he leaned. He winced again as he was grabbed somewhat roughly by the arms, but relaxed even further against the wall at the touch. Now that Ludwig was here, he knew he'd be okay; his friend would take care of him.

"Italy," Ludwig said again, softer and just a hint more tenderly than before, "Are you okay? Did you get hurt at all?"

And just like always, Feliciano felt himself grow a little happier than he usually was, all thanks to Ludwig's oh-so-rare display of concern; of affection. Too caught up in Ludwig's attention to really think of a proper answer, he looked up, beaming, and bubbly replied, "I don't know!"

And just like always, Ludwig sighed and allowed Feliciano to hug him and plant little kisses on his cheeks. But then, things suddenly became unlike always; and this time, it really was Ludwig's fault.

As he was about to break away from Feliciano's embrace, he just so happened to scope out the rather... becoming outfit he still had on. And then, with a suddenness that surprised both of them, Ludwig grinned and gently removed Feliciano's arms from around his neck, a spark of playfulness twinkling in his blue eyes.

"Why don't we make sure then? Just to be safe."

Feliciano giggled when Ludwig's fingers lightly brushed his sides, tickling him, before journeying elsewhere. The blond man was ever so slowly lowering into a crouch before the Italian, his hands roaming the other's body, eliciting further giggles in his search for injury. And finally, after pressing down slightly on a particular area right above Feliciano's knee, he found one. He could tell too by the little _hic_ the other man let out in reaction to the touch.

Tsking and shaking his head in mock disappointment, Ludwig snuck a quick look at Feliciano's face. Quite typically, he was pouting. He hummed briefly in amusement at this before gripping the brunet's leg a little tighter and murmuring, "I'll take care of this, then."

And with that, the German carefully placed an ever so tender kiss on the white fabric of the tights covering the small wound. Looking up once again at Feliciano's face, Ludwig found himself revelling in the shock and quite adorable-- if he did say so himself-- blush he saw. But then, he realised just how _intimate_ that little action of his had been, and any abnormal emotions that the Italian evoked in him rapidly dissolved. Rather stiffly righting himself, Ludwig mumbled an embarrassed apology and hurried away, leaving Feliciano frozen against the wall in his surprise. His immobility was short-lived however as he touched the spot lightly with his fingertips, a smile once again working its way across his features.

Maybe he'd wear dresses more often.

Little did he know, someone scurrying away from Ludwig's house was already planning for the next time. Camera in hand, Elizaveta grinned to herself; she couldn't wait to show off her new pictures to Kiku.

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**A/N: And there you have it! I hope that you enjoyed it somewhat. =) As always, leave a review only if you wish to. Happy Holidays!**

**Link to picture:**

**http:// s306. photobucket. com/albums/nn275/comma_nazi/Axis%20Powers%20Hetalia/?action= view & current= 11b0nld. jpg**


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